Twice the Pain
by MaidGisele
Summary: The reaping from Peeta's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**Sorry the first chapter's so short! I was going to make the story chapterless and very long, but I decided that dividing it would be a better idea. I promise the rest will be up soon, I just have some polishing to do.**

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><p>I wake up bright and early, just like I do every morning. Reaping Day or not, I have my morning chores. Ovens to be heated, dough to set to rise, cakes to be baked and then decorated and set in the windows, to attract the wealthier customers.<p>

I yawn, roll out of bed and stand, staring out of my window that overlooks the usually busy street. It's quiet today, almost no one is on the street. Today is a holiday of sorts. If there's no shop to run, or coal to mine, people tend to sleep in as long as they can. Unfortunately for me, people still buy bread on holidays. I walk over to my small set of drawers and pull out one of my nicer outfits. Dark cotton trousers and a faded white dress shirt that used to be my father's. I put my apron on, to protect my clothing from the flour and icing. If I'm going to the Capitol today, I don't want to be covered in baking ingredients.

I make my way to the bakery kitchen. As I take out one of our larger bowls and start measuring out the flour, yeast, water and salt, I keep an eye on the back door. _She_ will probably be coming today. Wanting to get something nice for her sister, probably. A treat for tonight, when the worry is over. Assuming she - or her sister, who is now of age - don't get reaped.

I find myself worrying about her. Being so poor, I'm sure she'll have a huge load of tesserae, added onto the extra names that get put in every year. She's sixteen, same age as me. But I only get my name entered five times. I'm guessing she takes a tessera every month, so that would add up to twenty times.

I can't imagine having to watch her die.

I wonder if she'll have her 'friend' with her. The boy I almost never see her without. I admit it, I'm jealous of him. He's tall, strong, handsome, and most importantly, she seems to adore him. I don't think she's ever noticed me, except for that one day, all those years ago...

I've been in love with her since I was five. For eleven years I've been trying to work up the courage to talk to her. To say something, anything. But no success. There's something intimidating about her. The way she holds herself, the determined, ruthless spark in her eyes. It's frightening, but at the same time, admirable. Beautiful even. In a wild sort of way.

I'm not sure what I'm afraid of, exactly. Rejection? Mockery, even? I don't know. But I'm pretty sure she's in love with her dark-haired hunting partner. I've seen the way they look at each other. Once, I actually saw him making her laugh. Whereas I've never even spoken to her. I sigh quietly, and focus my attention on my chores.

Sure enough, late into the morning, there's a knock on the back door and my father walks over to it. Before he opens the door, he nods at me, and I run to the other side of the house to make sure my mother isn't around. I don't see her. I walk down the hallway and peek into my parents' bedroom. She's still asleep. I go back to the kitchen and give a quick shake of my head. He sighs, relieved, and opens the door.

She's there, with her friend, just like she always is. They're selling squirrels. My father loves squirrels. I'm actually partial to them myself. But we never buy them if my mother's around. She hates that we give money to people from the Seam. She calls them filthy beggars, all sorts of nasty names. I don't care, and neither does my father. But we don't want to have to listen to her screeching. We'll fry up the critters later, when she goes out to the shops.

When I hear her voice, I lean over to try to see around my father's form, which is blocking the doorway. I catch a glimpse of her long brown braid, and then she's gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_I remember the first time I saw her. I was five. It was the first day of school, and my father was dropping me off. We stood by the entrance to the school building. He told me to be good, and that he'd pick me up once school was over. We waited for a moment, watching the people go in, when suddenly, my father squeezed my hand and pointed to a little girl, about the same age as me. She was wearing a red plaid dress, and her dark brown hair was in two braids. "See that little girl?" he asked. I nodded. "I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner." I looked up at my father in disbelief. "A coal miner?" I asked curiously. "Why did she want a coal miner when she could've had you?" My father sighed wistfully. "Because when he sings...even the birds stop to listen."_

_This intrigued me, so that day, I kept an eye on the daughter of the woman my father wanted to marry. She was small, but strong looking, and had a smile that was brighter than a sunbeam. During music assembly, we sang the Anthem, and then the teacher asked us if we knew the valley song. I knew it, sort of, but before I could open my mouth, the girl's hand shot right up in the air. The teacher smiled, and had the girl stand on a stool and sing it for the class. I was mesmerized. Her voice was high, clear and joyful, and so full of life it made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. The birdsong that had been continuous throughout the morning had stopped abruptly. And I, just like the birds, was completely enchanted._

_When she finished singing, I understood why her mother had run off with the coal miner. If his voice was anything like this little girl, her mother would have been powerless to do anything but fall in love with him. Just like I was falling in love with the little girl._

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><p>It's half past one, time to go down to the square. I take off my apron and hang it on a hook by the door. I put the bowls in the sink and rinse them out. I sweep up the floor, then go to the bathroom and comb my hair. I scrub off the flour caked on my face, and then I'm ready to go.<p>

I'm almost late, so by the time I get to the square,it's packed. I sign in, and am ushered over to a group of other sixteen year old citizens. I exchange polite nods with the people around me, and then start searching for her face. I've just located her, quite a ways away from me, a cold, unreadable expression on her face, when the big town clock strikes two, and the Mayor stands up and starts reading about the history of Panem. I'm not paying attention. I've heard it many, many times and besides - it just makes me angry hearing it. How our want of freedom caused us to have to suffer like this, every year, having to sacrifice our children in our games.

I had a friend once, when I was thirteen. Murk. We used to play in the school playground after school, almost every day. His father owned the tailor's shop down the road from our baker. Then our first reaping day came. Murk was reaped. And I watched him get hacked to pieces in the Games. I remember exactly when it happened. I was sitting in our kitchen, eating the cold dinner sitting on the table. I'd been hiding in my room, ever since Murk was reaped. It had been exactly a week since the Reaping, and I missed him badly. I was alone. The rest of my family was in the formal dining room doing their quota of mandatory viewing time. I was watching Murk on TV, skinning a rabbit he had managed to chase down. I cheered for him inwardly. At least he wouldn't starve to death. Then it happened. So fast, I barely had time to react. The Career was on him, ambushing him from behind. Hacking him to pieces with his huge sword. I don't remember the first few seconds after that. I think maybe I screamed. But I do remember just sitting, a spoonful of cold stew in my hand, trying not to retch. At some point, my father came in to see what was wrong. He saw the image of Murk right before the cameras relocated to another scene. He sat down next to me, and held me while I cried.

Eventually I calmed down, but then I stayed in bed for days. I was numb. Wwhen I did come out of my solitude, I decided that if I was ever reaped, I would somehow make the Capitol pay for their monstrous actions. I would not become a piece in their games. I would show them that I was more than an animal, I was human, with human thoughts and feelings.

Of course, I keep all this to myself. To everyone on the outside, I am a calm, mild-mannered baker's son who never complains. The fierce anger inside me cools a little, after the years, but it doesn't die. I still hate the Capitol.

My angry thoughts are interrupted by Haymitch Abernathy, the only living Victor from Twelve. He staggers on stage, hollering something unintelligible. It's obvious from his slurred words and bright red face that he's very drunk. The crowd starts clapping politely, and I join in. I've met Haymitch a few times, when he decides that alcohol isn't enough for him to survive on, he comes to buy some of our cheapest bread. He's not a bad sort, as long as he's not too steeped in liquor. I watch as Haymitch stumbles around the stage, a comical expression of confusion on his face. He wobbles over to Effie, and tries to give her a big hug, which she manages to fend off. The Mayor makes a face, and Effie trots to the center of the stage, bright and bubbly as ever.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she squeals. "And may the odds be _ever _in your favor!" She starts going on about what _huge_ honor it is to be here, but everyone knows that she can't stand Twelve and is dying to get promoted to a more 'civilized' district.

Looking over at _her_ again, I can see that she's got a amused smile on her face. She looks over towards the eighteen year olds, and I follow her gaze. She's looking at her dark haired friend. He smiles back at her for a fraction of a second, but then his face darkens and we all turn our attention back to the stage as Effie steps over to the glass ball containing the names of the girls.

"Ladies first!" she says cheerily, and reaches in to the ball. Her hand goes deep into the pile, and comes up holding a small slip of paper. Paper in hand, she clicks back to the center of the stage on her ridiculously high heeled shoes and stops in front of the microphone. The crowd goes quiet. I hold my breath.

Effie inhales deeply, opens her mouth and calls; "Primrose Everdeen!"

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><p><strong>Sorry it took so long to get this up, I kind of forgot about it for a while. The next (and probably last) chapter may not be up for a while, as it's going to be the toughest to work out and write.<strong>

**Hope you enjoyed! xo**


	3. Chapter 3

_Primrose Everdeen_, I think. _Oh no, oh no, no no no..._

She's her sister. Her _sister_. The one person she really, truly loves. I've seen them together. Giving each other secret smiles at school. Walking home together, hand in hand. Sometimes even giggling. She has this special smile she only shares with her sister. She doesn't even smile that way for her dark haired friend.

The crowd starts murmuring unhappily, just like they do every time twelve year old is reaped, because no one thinks it's fair. This small little girl is going to die, there's absolutely no doubt about that. I watch her as she makes her way towards the podium, face white, fists clenched, walking in small stiff steps. I feel a sharp pain in my palms and realize that I've been clenching my fists as well.

"Prim!" comes a hoarse cry, and I can see the girl starting to move towards her sister. "Prim!" She charges forward as people move aside to let her through. She reaches her sister just as Primrose is about to mount the steps. Sweeping her sister behind her with one arm, she shouts, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

I feel the world spinning around me. I stagger and involuntarily clutch someone's shoulder, trying to steady myself.

She can't volunteer. She can't. She'll _die_. And if she dies, I'll die. It's as simple as that. I can't think. I can't move. The words _I'm going to lose her forever_ keep spinning around inside of my skull. I feel tears start to sting my eyes. I wonder if I'll be allowed to say goodbye to her? But a small part of me hopes not, because what will I say to her? She probably doesn't even remember me.

"Lovely!" gushes Effie Trinket. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and_ then_ asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um..." she trails off, confused.

"What does it matter?" the mayor snaps. I see him looking at the girl, a pained expression on his face. "What does it matter?" he repeats. "Let her come forward."

Primrose starts screaming hysterically, begging her sister not to go. "Prim, let go!" the girl says harshly. I can see her struggle to remain calm. "Let go!" Suddenly, her dark haired friend appears by her side and pries the screaming Prim off of the girl. He mumbles something to her, hoists Primrose over his shoulder and carries her off while she kicks and screams. I look back at the girl. She's shaking a little bit as she starts climbing the podium steps.

"Well bravo!" Effie squeals. "That's the spirit of the games!" I'm fighting to gain control of my disgust, my rage and my anguish. "What's your name?" she asks. The girl swallows. "Katniss Everdeen," she says. At the sound of her name, I start shaking. _This is wrong,_ I think. _This is all so, so wrong..._

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we?" She chuckles. "Come on everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!"

No one claps. There's a silence that lasts about five seconds. Something inside me goes off, and I act before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm that angry. I press the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips, and hold them out to her. I close my eyes and wait to be hauled off to jail. Nothing happens. I open my eyes, and find everyone around me doing the exact same thing. We are all, all of District Twelve, saluting our brave tribute. We are saluting her courage and her sacrifice. For the first time, I feel as though I am actually making my feelings known. _We do not agree,_ I think. _We do not condone. All of this is wrong. _

Our short moment of rebellion is shattered by Haymitch Abernathy. He staggers across the stage and throws his arm around Katniss' shoulders. "Look at her!" he hollers drunkenly. "Look at this one! I like her!" I see Katniss wrinkle her nose, and I suspect he hasn't bathed in days. "Lots of..." he pauses, trying to think of the word. "Spunk!" he says triumphantly. "More than you!" he shouts, removing his arm from Katniss' shoulders and wobbling towards the edge of the stage. "More than you!" he shouts again, pointing directly at the camera.

I'm taken aback. Is he actually speaking to the Capitol? But I never find out, because just as he opens his mouth to say more, he leans a bit too far forward, falls off the stage and knocks himself unconscious. There's a vague, choking sound, and I back up to the stage to see Katniss using this distraction as an opportunity to compose herself. She takes a deep breath, puts on her expressionless face and stands up straight.

Effie clicks back to the center of the stage. Her wig is leaning severely to the right, and she holds one hand on it, trying to make it stay on her head. "What an exciting day!" she warbles. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" Clearly flustered, she wobbles over to the bowl with the boy's names, and snatches the first one she touches. I feel myself tense. I don't even know what to hope for. She zips back to the center of the podium, and quickly unfolds the paper. I take a deep breath.

"Peeta Mellark!" she calls, and I freeze. I try to breathe, but I can't seem to remember how. Someone nudges me. I gasp, and start to move forward, my thoughts banging around the inside of my head. _No,_ I want to scream. _No, no this can't be happening!_ I thought I was experiencing the ultimate pain when I saw Katniss volunteer. I thought nothing worse could ever happen to me. There couldn't be anything more agonizing than watching my childhood sweetheart seal her own doom. But I was wrong. I am going to be forced into an arena with her and twenty-two other young people, and I am going to have to try and kill her. This...this is twice the pain. I wish I could just die right here, where I'm standing. I wish I could just get it over with.

There are tears in my eyes again, and I can barely keep them from spilling over my cheeks. As I move slowly up the steps, I look up and see her staring at me, an unreadable expression on her face. _Do you remember?_ I want to ask her. _Do you remember me? _She looks away.

My feet are steady by the time I make it to the top of the stage. My breathing has slowed somewhat. When Effie calls for volunteers, there's a cold, painful silence. I'm not surprised. What Katniss did was rare, unheard of. My brothers love me, I know, but not that much. Not enough to sacrifice their lives for me. But Katniss...she volunteered for her sister, knowing it meant death. Or did she? Does she think she can win? I look over at her. Her face is it's usual blank stare, but beneath that, I see a flicker of something - determination. She's a fighter, I know. Maybe she _can _win. The gears start turning in my head.

By the time the mayor motions for us to shake hands, I have made my decision. I am not going to fight Katniss Everdeen. I am going to show her, once and for all, how much I love her. I am going to protect her. No, not just protect her. _Save _her.


End file.
